I hate surveys. After making fun of every girl who filled these out, I went ahead and answered the only questions I felt had a relevant answer.
1. Shortest relationship: Me and Diet Dr. Pepper. Mixing it with vodka every weekend for a year was a big turn off.
2. Have you ever fallen for a friend? I slipped on the ice in front of Cole last weekend.
7. Are you afraid of commitment? Fuck no. I’ve been loyally committed to alcohol for five years now.
1. Love or money? Well I love money.
7. Phone or in Person? Are we referring to sex?
1. Do you live life to the fullest? I fill out my jeans the best I can by means of fast food such as, but not limited to, McDonald’s and Taco Bell.
2. How do you dress? I usually put my underwear on first, and then bra if I remember to wear one.
3. What do you want to be when you grow up? Black.
4. Favorite season? Paprika
I just completed midterm numero uno. I studied for a grand total of 47 minutes for this test between last night and Saturday afternoon. The result? I actually feel as though I did alright, but I know I missed 4 points on one question that I didn’t know the answer to, and 3 on another. So I probably missed 26 points out of 30. Sounds good.
I have somewhere north of six trillion pictures to upload onto Facebook here. The problem is, our internet is a douche, and it takes longer than shit to upload them. I need to get it done though. The Party Foul game is in there, and that’s an album worth chuckling at.
I have a number of things to do this week. 1) Midterm number two tomorrow. 2) Midterms three and four on Wednesday. 3) Regret not studying for midterms 2,3, and 4. 4) See a play. 5) Actually see the play. 6) Write a story of one of my terribly unnerving dreams. 7) Give plasma twice somehow. 8) Get my car jumped. 9) Lose sixteen pounds. 10) Pack my shit for spring break. 11) Assassinate Tyra Banks.
I don’t understand individuals who say that Fergie is hot as shit. Compared to Sister Patterson, I can see where you’re coming from, but Rob Schneider is sexy as shit compared to that man. Fergie is not attractive, and as far as I’m concerned, not talented. Singing songs and spelling every word in them is no great feat. Three year olds do it on a daily basis. It’s called “Baby Einstein.”
Fergie is a transvestite. Case closed.
This is what I walked past on my way to class this morning. That is a naked blow up doll hanging from a tree with a sword stuck in the ground below it. It is obvious that I live in a wholesome, family-oriented neighborhood. Good place to raise small children.
I’m off to do nothing.
“Dex? Dex? D–dex? Dacks?”